There's gravel grinding in my gut; a godless gearbox of grief growling in my belly's black cathedral.
My heart hammers like hell's hooves, hauling the hearse of every hope I ever had.
I eat dirt for dinner and call it divine, choking on crumbs of my own creation.
My lungs lurch like dying engines, exhaling elegies of exhaust and extinction.
Every breath burns a furnace of forgiveness that refuses to cool.
The devil drums on my ribs like thunder made of teeth and tin.
My tongue tastes of tombstones and tar and a sermon spat through shattered glass.
Even silence stabs sharp sanctified hollering hymns of pain through the marrow of midnight.
I am the meat of my own misery devoured by despair divine.
And stll the gravel grins inside me, grinding and glorying in my ruin.
If you are squeamish
you may not be ready to be a mother
babies are messy and smelly
their odors are horrible
they spit up and squirt out
your clothes will never be the same
toddlers eat dirt, sand and bugs.
there is no time to be finicky or prissy
the average person consumes eight spiders a year
in their sleep,
knowing this might make motherhood easier.
casting shade
on food security~
let them eat dirt
If I could have just one desire
maybe multiples of sevens
I would swallow my pride
place it inside
Up Chuck spew out the spoonful of defoul
on a tablespoon
sprinkle it with honey no sugar
swallow the bitter filler of disdained
all those monarchies enrage hierarchies
Throw up spew out a spoon full of defoul
O, what's wrong wit me
In my part of this sinful heresy
repelling me I throw up my jealousies
all of this inside of me
Upchuck spew a spoonful of defile
swallowing like a spoonful of antacid
I would take more molasses
I spit on my shame
I throw up in vain
but it's not what goes in my mouth
but yet what comes out
Raw species upchucking
crawfishes filthy and hurt
rather eat dirt
but those things that come forth
from the mouth go out from the heart
come out of the heart
and these things defoul the man
Please! Don't don't say this all over again!!
Help us all LORD
1/6/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
St Matthews 15:18
Aunt BeMah had complex of “worst scenario”.
No matter what happened she would be screaming “oh, no!”
If you fell down on cement and skinned your knee,
She would scream about a cancer possibility.
One time she announced that Leroy obviously had chthonophagia.
We had to Google it. It means unhealthy desire to eat dirt, funny, yah?
Leroy is two.
That is what two’s do.
Proud Mica
I mustn’t go inside
For I will die
Though forbidden
I dig for mica,
A shimmery crystalline rock
Resembling thin mirror glass
I bare scars
From scraping the ceiling inside
A hollow, black hole
That’ll surely collapse
I labor for but a few cents
But I mustn’t cry
For I’ve survived
Though thick air
And dust fill up my lungs
And I’ve got a cough
I carry on
With light humor
And a silent prayer
I stay pretty
With dirt beneath my nails
And scabs beneath my feet
I walk on pretty
Glistening dirt
Leading to my secret hiding place
To make you pretty
My work stops
when the rain drops
The mines ain’t mine
Even at four or five
Nor are my fantasies
I’m part of the machine
First to touch the jewel
Yet last to eat
Flashlights lead the way
Until it burns out
And leave me in a maze
I eat dirt
But I ain’t dirty
I dream of pretty
Tassels and tea parties
Marckincia Jean
Narrative
06/09/19
My feet drowned water
My fingers ate dirt
My mouth failed filth
My heart beat yours
While trying to kick habits
You silenced my life
Suffocated spring rain
Melted snow white pleasure
Innocence excluded
My eyes burned charcoal
My toes grew deep roots
My waist encircled
Your hate with metal
Today your cold bed
Will wither and wilt away
The story I needed to tell you
I take with me without regret
Our story ends here.
Mine now begins.
***
April 8, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Baby, You're not mine
I'm not giving you the time
I'm too busy
writing my lines
in sweetness sublime
Baby, Get away
I don't want to play
With
Your sandbox of toys
Your mommy took away
I'll drive my Tonka truck
All over your face
To release you games
Don't you cry
at me in shame
I'll make you eat dirt
written
all over your face
Don't even think of
playing emotional trains
You'll get a reward
when my Tonka is floored
You will think twice
before I play nice
Damn,
Your not my type
I think of you
like lice
Scratching my head
with evil intent
Just go away
I don't want to play
I have my own toys
Being a tomboy
My Tonkas are rockin
yours, are sweet nothing
Let's give them away
and play another day
Temporary housing for the quick and the dead,
Lucky ones get to leave on occasion
But nothing is certain and medicine an art.
Life’s a vacation from hospital beds,
The one you are born in,
The ones that catch you off guard,
The one you will likely die in as well.
Happiness is always a carnival ride,
And though you are caught up in the novelty,
It doesn’t last and is seldom free,
No matter how short it seems.
Cleanliness to ward off the evil spirits?
Now there’s a joke we all can love!
The most protected of children
Can be among the first to die!
Mothers! Let you kids eat dirt!
Germs that don’t kill might save their life!
Toughness isn’t always taught.
Nature’s House rules are not always kind,
She usually has the winning hand
And sometimes hides cards up her sleeve.
Still life’s the only game we know
Whatever cards we may be dealt.
When you argue for the soul,
You just piss against the wind...
And yet, without a true creator God,
(And a loving one at that),
Is there really meaning to be found?
What hope has Love in love?
Long Tooth
December 14, 2016
I stand within these walls of comfort, Called freedom. While in every corner of this world, My siblings die. Brothers and sisters of earth, Struggling for hope. My vagabond mind wanders in circles, Searching for answers. Still, questions hang like dead fog, Which never lifts. Explosions of pain that ears can hear, Waking my eyes in morning papers. Wars giving less than nothing, Smother my senses in useless regret. So many feeling so sorry, Yet simply changing channels. Compassion being a dirty word, Those elite few have come to despise. While walls they've built soon crush them, Beneath weight of their own insincerity. Intellectual nitwits, Unaware of their bottomless ignorance. Marching beneath a banner of confusion, They proudly do wave. All the while chanting, Let the common ones eat dirt. As their warm apple pies quietly cool, On selfish shelves. As unfortunate mothers loudly weep in despair, Watching their children expire. These ones of power do not hear those sounds of death, Only their greed raging out of control in a battle outside.
I grew up in Middletown, where everything was pretty much average.
Every house, every car, every mom, dad and every kid were all
just about the same. Except for Paul Locke. Paul was the only Jewish
kid on the block. But that wasn't what made him different.
Paul could eat dirt and seemed to enjoy doing so. Someone would say,
"show'em Paul", and he would. Sand, red clay, loam, dust, it didn't
seem to matter. Paul would reach down and grab a handful, choke it
down and then laugh uncontrollably at his accomplishment. He was at
his best in those hot July and August days when we hadn't seen rain all
summer.
Thinking back on it, I don't believe I ever saw him do mud.
I suppose even being different must have its limits.
Give Me Your Best James Tate-Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Space Cadet
11/03/2016
I used to pick on
some of the other kids in school.
Now, I didn't do it to show of
or just to be cool.
It didn't make me happy
to make them hurt.
And it wasn't because I was angry,
that I made them eat dirt.
Never was I jealous,
or thought it was funny.
Never did I do it
to take their lunch money.
Not even did I do it,
for their homework to copy.
I really only ever did it,
because there was nothing
they could do to stop me.
She was my sandbox love,
When we were just kids
The one I dared to eat dirt
My hero, when she did
My enemy, when she said
Your turn now and I double dog dare
You eat some dirt
And that dead worm over there
She wore pink tennis shoes,
And her hair in pigtails
We were dreamers with wings
living life on a dare
My sandbox love and I
Testing our limits,
Running wild and free
Little girls play dress up,
Boys just destroy things
She’d say, I am Princess,
You are a Prince
I had a smile on my face
Thinking of my sweet revenge
The next day I’ll be a firey dragon,
she’ll be a witch, that I’ll eat end
There in the sandbox, we gave our spit pledges
Promising each other, our love would last forever
Her family moved away and I’d not seen her since
But I honor my pledge each day I reminisce
My sandbox love, you - I’ll never forget
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